And here I lay, sick, without a care in the world. So I sleep all day, and I do nothing but sleep, because it helps me escape to a world not here. But one thing appears which I can’t seem to run from: that’s images of you. Your voice, your touch, your smile, your laughter, the feeling of your fingers being entangled with mines… it’s all breathtaking; it’s all heart-breaking. I’m fully awake and I do things to occupy me, but all I can see are things that hurt me inside, and all I can feel is this emptiness that you left me, and all I can think is that you’re elsewhere, feeling a completely different feeling than mine.
She said she didn’t want to, and she said she was done.
I’m such an ugly person.
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